


Glimpses

by x (ordinary)



Series: Lifeblood [2]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Nightmares, Paganism, Surreal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 13:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20154499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ordinary/pseuds/x
Summary: Moments in the lives of Legends.Or: Tumblr prompts.





	1. Bloodhound - Vulnerable

**Author's Note:**

> This will house character drabbles that aren't quite big enough to be their own thing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content: Paganism

When blue fades to the orange and violets of twilight, Bloodhound disappears into the trees.

The compound is embedded in a forest; a pocket of civilization (_colonization_) carved out from nature itself. For miles around, there is nothing but forest and rivers and cliffs. Solace is a planet almost entirely untouched; in truth, Bloodhound thinks of their residence as a blemish upon the wild. 

Humanity is a blight that cannot be cured; only attrition stops them in their tracks. The wars concluded not out of compromise, only time.

Time is the only constant to all beneath the care of the Allfather. All things come to a conclusion; there is no outrunning the fate that will befall you. 

It seems foolish– childish, even– to try.

So Bloodhound slips into the forest with the stealth of a seasoned hunter, passing through the lands that are not their own. They are far from their home planet, but nature is nature no matter where their footsteps lead them.

The deeper into the woods they go, the more the tension in their shoulders ease. The smell of dirt and damp and the sting of pine. The sound of chirping birds and humming insects; in the distance, the gentle burbling of a nearby brook.

Bloodhound loses themself in the wilds and lets their heart sing, their surefooted wanderings taking them towards their place of worship. There is no need to hurry: the night is young, and the Allfather is patient.

They lay a heavy hand upon their pack, feeling the rhythm of sloshing of mead within its bottle, the ebb and tide of it in time to their footsteps. It is their most common offering, a staple of their devotion to Him.

The brook lies ahead, where Bloodhound will follow it north to the clearing where the canopy above does not cover the soil. This, too, is a ritual. A conclusion of their oath to Him, the last stretch of a journey that began in the drop ship.

When they arrive at their shrine, Bloodhound slides to settle into the loam, cross legged. With the measured motions of a loyal servant, they undo the leather buckles of their bag.

Out comes the mead, traded for in earnest. Out comes their blade, still coated in blood beneath its linen wrappings. Out comes their prayers, murmured with bowed head.

“Allfather,” they say in their Father tongue, voice low and sonorous. It is nigh inaudible over the rustle of leaves in the wind. “Hear me. I bring in me the hunt that lies within my heart. I bring the blood that has been shed in your name. The promises fulfilled to my fallen brethren, an oath upheld.”

They uncork the bottle, and pour the mead into earth, its honey-sweet tang filling the air. Arthur circles above, their crow loud and sure, and beneath their mask, Bloodhound smiles.

The knife is next. They free it from its trappings, flaked in red. 

“On this day, my blood flowed from the horse of the hanged, down Yggdrasil’s its branches through its roots. On this day, I bring the blade that slew in your honor.”

Bloodhound plunges it into the wet earth, embedding it into the soil. “I am yours, Allfather. I stand in glory and in gore beneath your mantle. Beneath your lone eye. In return, I humbly ask for your blessing, so that I may honor you again on the morrow.”

Arthur descends from the sky, taking their place upon Bloodhound’s shoulder, affectionately nudging at their helm with a chirp of satisfaction. Above, the moon shines bright, full and white and clean. 

They are far from their home world, but that does not mean they cannot be at home. The gods see them no matter what planet the inhabit. They will listen, if respected and offered to.

It shows in their victories. 

They plan for another tomorrow.


	2. Caustic - Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content: Surrealist Horror, Blood, Drowning, Nightmares

Afloat in a sea of nothing, Caustic drowns.

There is tar in his lungs and there is white all around. Emptiness surrounds him in three hundred and sixty degrees. From horizon to horizon there is no_thing_ and no_one_. He is in Tabula Rasa. A blank slate. A _clean _place.

That’s not quite true.

_He’s_ here. He is the malignant cell. 

In this infinite canvas, his body is a blot of corruption: a cancer that cannot be excised, cells in mitosis that refuse all signals to stop. He is compelled. He is a ruiner. He is–

Nausea rolls over in his gut and then dies.

The water is rejecting him. The sky, too. The place wants Caustic gone. It wants him _purged_.

Caustic breathes in, in, _in_, and tastes no air. Only ozone and gasoline stir inside of him like a living creature. The ichor is too thick to be blood. It is too vast to be held.

He struggles to keep his head above the water, gasping and choking on brine. The nameless, shapeless _thing_ slips out from between his ribs, sweats out through his pores. It crawls its way up his throat and – 

Then it moves.

It moves, within and without him. Inside him and outside him. 

What is it? _What is it_? 

The waves grow choppy, the sea of searing white rising all around him. An ocean with no seafloor. A well that never ends. 

Caustic breathes in, in, _in, _and and the writhing thing that emerged from his lungs grabs him by the ankle and drags him _down_ into the water, more sure than any undertow. Toxins shroud him in a cloud of inky darkness, spreading their tendrils out in jagged, branching patterns. Lichtenberg figures with no end. There is no delicate art here, only the machinations of a force that he cannot trace. 

Water scours him clean from the inside out, scrubbing him raw. Purification, purification, purification. An autoclave sterilizes the whole of him.

Then the fire razes the forest. The sludge sets itself ablaze.

How do flames kiss the water? How do they sink beneath the surface and burn brighter because of it?

The blaze is black and sickly green, dancing across his skin. Caustic is the only cancer here in this world of blanched nothingness. The ache in his chest grows glassy edges, sharp and jagged. Who he _is_ and what he _does_war within him.

Something from the endless deep below him wraps a tendril around Caustic’s wrist. It is soft, like numbing drugs. Soft, like a lover’s touch. Soft, like a happy memory bubbling to the surface right when you need it–

And then it consumes him.

It latches on to Caustic’s whole and disassembles him into pieces. He is more logic than man, or so he thinks, and so the division of self into neatly wrapped parcels is natural. Silver creeps up his left hand and puts the fire out. He can no longer feel his fingers, his wrist, his lower arm. The more it spreads, the less he _is_. It reduces him to nothing. All he has done is worth nothing. All that he knows is worth nothing. 

Caustic breathes in, in, _in_, and–

His entire body convulses awake. He rolls over and heaves blood onto the floor, clammy and cold and terrified. One of his prosthetics has malfunctioned in the night. One hand is curled under his chest, and the ring finger is bent backwards, wrong. Pain radiates out from between his ribs, and the hacking does not cease for minutes.

It feels like hours, and for a time, Caustic doesn’t move, bone weary from head to toe. Later, he will fix his hand. Later, he will take his medication. 

Later, later, later.

For now, he is reminded of his mortality, all alone, in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to send me prompts on[tumblr](http://dangerjunkie.tumblr.com), where I will expand on them in unexpected ways. :D


End file.
